


childhood is the kingdom (where nobody really dies)

by eggosandxmen



Series: addicted to the knife [2]
Category: Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Demons, Evil Emily & Charles (Sorry Emily & Charles), Exorcism, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending for all involved, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, School, redemption arc, timelines? What timelines?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggosandxmen/pseuds/eggosandxmen
Summary: We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven.Or; The laboratory is gone, the subjects are growing into children, and absolutely nothing could possibly mess this up.Or; the second act.





	1. the readjustment of girls and ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this is that sequel I was supposed to finish months ago. It’s done now; a little rushed, but done. This story means the entire world to me and I’m so happy so many of you liked it so much.
> 
> Special shoutout to 3sides1eye, pretty much the only reason this is in existence, and owlsii for all the support. Love you both so much.

Lydia’s dreams are always terrifying, bright and loud and hard to explain. Tonight is no different.

She’s wearing a black dress, a camera strapped around her neck, in a dining room she doesn’t remember ever seeing before. Next to her, the Deetzes (she ran from them, Dr. Maitland got her away from them, Charles is dead, why are they here, why are they _here_) sit transfixed, staring behind her.

Lydia turns around.

It’s Dr. Maitland and Adam, but different, wrong, floating above the table, covered in a green glow and dressed, for some reason, in their wedding clothes. 

(The only wedding Lydia had ever seen was broadcast to her to test her long-range power set. She had killed the groom.)

But back to more pressing matters- her body was not her own to control, and Beej was nowhere to be found in this sudden, terrifying situation. Every bit of her was screaming, fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or- 

“Stop it!” She hears herself scream. “They’re _dying_!”

And they are- Adam’s face crumpling into itself, eyes sinking into his skull, Dr. Maitland’s hands curving into bony claws, their bodies slumping to the table.

Charles turns to her, smile bright and dangerous. “You’ve finally done your job.”

But she hadn’t- hadn’t done- had she?

She looks over to the bodies slumped on the table as Dr. Maitland’s skull breaks into dust.

She wakes up screaming.

The sheets- real, proper sheets, and a real, proper bed, she had almost forgotten- are tangled around her legs, and Beetlejuice has wrapped himself around her, his head on her hair, fast asleep. She sighs, leaning against him and trying not to think about her dream. The Maitlands are alive- she can feel them, their auras bright downstairs, asleep on the couch after the exhaustion of the drive here. She’d never hurt them. She wouldn’t.

Would she?

-

Adam steals the entire blanket, like he always does, but Barbara doesn’t stop him, staring at the ceiling. Despite her utter exhaustion, she can’t sleep, questions plaguing her mind. Would she be able to protect the kids now in her care? From the doctors, from their trauma, from the government?

Christ, she had no idea.

She would try.

She rolls over and grabs for the blanket, ignoring Adam’s groaned complaints.

-

The acclimation of living in a house with people other than themselves is slow for Barbara and Adam, but they’re happy to do it, really. They had planned for months in advance, they had gotten ready for the pressure of raising two children. But it’s not like Barbara or Adam can quite focus on the kids for the first day after they run. It takes a few days for them to think about their own feelings, to even stop to breathe, what with fortifying the house (locks and magic runes on every door, the windows with extra locks and sharpied-on protective spells found in the depths of the library) and getting the kids’ health checked out. 

Barbara ends up doing a doctor’s checkup as best she can- Beej is literally dead and also won’t let her near him, so she checks on Lydia. She’s still much too thin, a whole bunch of her wounds are infected, and she’s still (for some goddamn reason) wearing her old hospital gown. It’s all gross and ripped, but nothing they have in the house will fit her, and they’re all on self-imposed house arrest for the time being.

So Barbara drags Adam’s grandmother’s old sewing machine out of the attic and gets to work. She has bits and pieces of black fabric from old pants, shirts, skirts, and the like, so she sets out to make a simple dress, something comfortable enough for Lydia to be able to wear with her sensory issues that isn’t a torn up gown that she’s been wearing for at least a few years.

She finishes after another week of work and calls Lydia in from where Adam is teaching the two kids how to play spoons into her and Adam’s bedroom, finishing the last stitches. 

“This is for you.” She lifts it up and Lydia’s eyes widen. “You don’t need to take it if you don’t like it, but I figured it might be better than your gown.”

She nods, once, and Barbara hands it over, looking away while Lydia changes. And then she’s being grabbed around the middle, Lydia hugging her so tightly she barely manages to breathe. “Thank you!”

“No-” she actually has to wheeze- “problem, hon.”

She looks _happy-_ the dress fits her perfectly, loose around her shoulders but not too big, and she’s smiling wide, all her teeth showing as she flat-out beams. 

All of Barbara’s anxieties slip away as she looks at her. Any and all worry is worth it, for this girl and her smile.

-

Beej isn’t as quick to settle in as Lydia. He jumps whenever Adam or Barbara comes in a room and he doesn’t leave Lydia alone and he flat-out refuses to eat for a solid two weeks (Barbara kind of assumes Lydia handles it, but really she has no idea) before Adam gets him to take a few Sour Patch Kids while they’re in the middle of a particularly vigorous rewatch of Buzzfeed Unsolved.

He’s angry, is the thing. He yells at them and slams the doors and attempts to break their stuff and overall is so constantly furious that Barbara realizes that he’s doing it on purpose. 

(She’s a child psychologist. She’s no idiot. It’s textbook trauma response.)

So she works with it- reminds him to put shoes on (or float, if applicable) when he smashes plates, makes sure not to get in between Lydia and Beej and any exits, and tries her best to actually talk to him.

Not that he makes it easy, of course. But they work on it- Barbara sets her boundaries and Beej sets his, and after a month, it starts improving. They get him to eat and his anger fades as he spends more time around them, Barbara sometimes even managing to get him to laugh.

It’s good, really. It’s actually working.

The first time Beej really expresses any sort of feeling to Barbara is when Adam and Lydia have already gone to sleep, late one night. Barbara is in the kitchen, watering the plants along the windowsill, and Beej is sitting, perched on the couch and tugging at strands of his hair. “Dr. M?”

“Hm?”

“D’you think I could. I don’t know, maybe, I just. I was thinking maybe I could cut my hair?” He laughs hollowly, pulling hard at the strand he’s got twirled on his finger. “I haven’t gotten a haircut since before Lyds was born.”

Barbara keeps forgetting that he’s _much _ older than he looks. That he existed before the lab, that he had a life- afterlife, more accurately- that Barbara knows next to nothing about.

But it’s too late at night to be thinking about that, so she simply motions him over to the kitchen table. “I can cut it for you right now, if you like.”

He blinks at her- in wariness or just confusion? She’s never quite able to guess what he’s thinking- but comes over to the table. 

“I’m going to touch the back of your neck and your head, okay?” She pulls out the razor and scissors Adam always has her use on his hair (he can’t stand anyone but Barbara doing it, his sensory issues bubbling up).

“Okay.”

She grabs a hairband and ties his hair into a bun, flicking on the razor and beginning on his left side. His shoulders tense up at the noise and Barbara does her best to finish as quickly as possible, thick strands of faded green hair falling under the table as she buzzes along.

When she finishes the sides, she chops of the part of his hair in the bun, making sure it’s all even. The roots of his hair- all that’s left on the sides- are a dark brown, leaving only the top his signature green. She puts the razor down and he immediately sticks his hands into what’s left of the sides, rubbing the newly-short parts back and forth.

She remembers he won’t actually be able to see the cut, what with not showing up in mirrors, but he doesn’t seem to notice or mind. Instead, he looks up at her, absolutely beaming, smiling ear to ear. “Thanks.”

She shrugs sheepishly. “No problem, Beej. How about you get some sleep now, yeah?”

He nods, hands still buried in his hair, and glows bright green for a nanosecond before disappearing altogether, a thump from upstairs telling Barbara he’s landed safely in his and Lydia’s bedroom.

-

Lydia wakes up when Beej teleports in, her eyes adjusting to find her best friend (her other half, the idiot of the duo, etc.) grinning at her like she hadn’t ever seen before, the entirety of his hair chopped off.

He looks good. He looks like himself. 

She tells him as much when he kicks over the covers and crawls in next to her, and he says he thought the same thing, wrapping one arm around her but keeping the other in his hair.

It’s a good first step, Lydia thinks- Beej’s haircut is something he wanted to express how he feels comfortable, like her dress is to her. They’re getting to become _people_, now, not weapons. 

-

After nearly five weeks of being shacked up in the house, Barbara makes the executive decision that it’s most likely alright to leave, and elects to invite the kids grocery shopping. Both of them agree immediately, rushing around the house to find clothes and shoes (most delivered from the goodwill down the road, Lydia’s sneakers a hand-me-down from Adam) and jumping down the entire flight of stairs to land in a heap at the front door. Lydia places a pair of contacts in her eyes (sue them, but they couldn’t exactly bring a teenage girl with yellow eyes out to a small town convenience store, could they?) and Barbara pushes open the door.

They walk to the grocery store, an old Mom n’ Pops down the dirt road, and Barbara reads through the list while Lydia and Beej talk quietly in a language Barbara can’t understand, bumping into each other’s shoulders and laughing.

The bell on the door rings when Barbara pushes it open and ushers them both inside, picking up a basket and glancing at the other shoppers (they’re trying not to stare too hard and utterly failing, and Barbara takes a deep breath, heading towards the vegetable section after giving a nervous smile to the onlookers).

Lydia follows her, staring around the store in amazement, while Beej is dragged along, hand stuck firmly in Lydia’s grip. Barbara gets through pulling out a head of lettuce and several tomatoes before the girl speaks up, pulling on Barbara’s sleeve.

“Mom?”

Barbara nearly drops the cucumber she’s holding but recovers, swallowing down a burst of happiness.

“Hm?”

“Dad said we had to tell you to remember the candy, Barbara, please, for me.” She says the sentence in a pitch-perfect imitation of Adam’s voice, which doesn’t unnerve Barbara in the _slightest_.

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll remember the candy. I haven’t forgotten it in the, what, twelve years we’ve been married, and yet here we are.”

Lydia drops her sleeve, but not before giving Barbara a genuine smile, which she returns in kind. Barbara had figured the use of endearment was for public image, but according to the knowing look on the girl’s face, maybe it wasn’t. 

Beej has moved to suspiciously poking at the pasta, squinting at it. “Dr. M, what the fuck is this?”

“Language,” she chides. “It’s spaghetti.”

“No, I knew that, I mean why is it so brightly packaged? It’s ridiculous! Back in my day we made pasta ourselves. None of this advertising bullshit.”

Lydia snorts. “Your day? When was that, Mr. I-Was-Alive-in-the_-Black-Plague?_”

They slip into fragmented sentences, bickering taking place in their brains and not meant for anyone else to hear, and Barbara doesn’t find herself minding. Instead, she moves on through the rest of the store, checking back ever so often to make sure they’re both still in her line of sight, and not saying a word when Beej decides to try to smuggle an entire loaf of bread under his jacket.

When did this become what she does for a living?

-

July slips into August by the time Barbara realizes she’s going to have to get Lydia (and Beej, if he wants) into the school down the road. 

Problem #1: Lydia can read and write pretty well, but the Maitlands can’t exactly tutor her in math or science.

Problem #2: She doesn’t like people.

Problem #3: _Barbara and Adam_ don’t like people.

This’ll be fun, Barbara thinks, pulling out her laptop.

-

In the end, Barbara spends three days figuring out the basics of the public school system before calling a few people, pulling a few strings, and then, with only a slight fuss, Lydia and Beej have got themselves birth certificates and carefully planned out backstories, and this con might just work long enough to get Lydia through high school. Beej has decided he’ll take the certificate and be signed up for class, but due to illness (read: sticking around in Lydia’s head), he’d be out of school most days. Barbara and Adam have no issue with it, honestly preferring the two of them stick together.

She drags out old textbooks and papers that they had squirreled away when they graduated college and gets to work, relearning basic algebra and the concept of photosynthesis, which she manages to teach both kids pretty easily- Lydia wants to learn everything and anything, and when Beej gets bored she explains it in layman’s terms for him while Barbara takes a break.

The public school system wouldn’t be kind to them, and Barbara knew it, but at least she could get them as much help as possible before throwing them into it.

-

Beej is never truly sure if he’s dreaming, but what he does know is that, right now, he’s alone. 

He’s alone in this void of steady nothingness. It’s dark and silent and _nothing_ could be worse than this sensory deprivation, this nightmare of darkness, nothing could possibly be worse. Beej tried to move, manages it, because somehow he still has a body here in the void. 

He starts to curl up against the darkness when the lights snap on. The too-bright swirls attack his senses, hurting his eyes, but he can’t escape it even if he squeezes them shut. He can’t see anything past spinning yellows and purples and greens, can’t hear anything except sudden, all-consuming white noise roaring in his ears. It’s so loud, loud, loud, and he can’t fix it, he can’t fix anything, he can’t do anything because he_ isn’t anything-_

He bolts awake and pushes himself off the bed, not waiting to see if Lydia wakes up before sprinting down the stairs- he’s too loud, he’s too loud, they’re going to catch him but he can’t calm himself down enough to teleport, he just needs to run so they don’t catch him, he doesn’t remember who _they_ are but he still needs to run-

He slams open the front door and runs down the road as fast as he can, broken glass and pebbles scraping his feet to shreds. He doesn’t care.

Barbara hears someone stomping on the stairs and pulls herself out of bed, groggily stumbling up the stairs and sticking her head into the kids’ room. Lydia’s curled tightly in on herself, but there’s a suspicious lack of green-haired teenage boy in the room. She turns and walks back downstairs, finding the door wide open, a soft breeze wafting in. 

Shit, shit, shit. She had been waiting for a night like this.

She shakes Adam awake and grabs Beej’s sneakers before running out the door after him, Adam just behind her. Beej’s footsteps show clearly in the dirt road and the two of them follow it along, the trail coming to a complete stop near a small patch of woods. 

Barbara fights down her nerves. Logically, where the hell would he have gone? He could be in Lydia’s head, but he rarely does that when they’re in their room together. Besides, the footprints end here- if he had teleported, there’d be some sort of mark in the dirt. The only thing here are the trees, many-branched and foreboding in the early dawn.

The trees. 

How obvious could it get?

Barbara looks up. Beej is perched in the tallest tree Barbara can make out, eyes glowing bright green, knuckles bleeding and covered in bite marks. He’s breathing hard- which he still does, Barbara notices, despite the whole being dead thing- and looking at them like he doesn’t recognize them.

“Beej, can you get down here?” Barbara asks, keeping her voice soft. “I brought your shoes.”

It seems important to say, the sneakers- to ground him, to remind him that he has a life there with them, that he has his own sneakers and his bedroom and he’s fine and he’s safe. Maybe Barbara is overthinking it, but she still wants to mention it.

He looks down at them and something shifts in his face, eyes switching from bright green to the usual yellow. “Dr. Maitland?”

“Mhm, and Adam’s here too, alright?”

He drops to the ground in front of them, arms around his stomach and shoulders tense. He looks a mess, pupils so wide Barbara can barely see the color behind them. He’s scared- no, terrified.

The Maitlands exchange a worried glance and Barbara takes a breath. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

In answer, he stumbles forward and collapses in her arms, beginning to absolutely bawl. Okay. This, she can handle.  
She rubs circles into his back as he wails, coughing and whining and shaking and holding onto her shirt like it’s his last lifeline. She pulls the both of them off the road and helps him over to the bus-station bench a few feet away, sitting them both down, Adam on Beej’s other side. “Okay, deep breath for me. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight, there you go.”

He exhales, keeping his face on her chest, and she rocks him a little. “What happened?”

“Had- had a nightmare,” he mutters, voice cracking. “Needed to- get out for a bit. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do you want to talk about what’s going on?”

He shakes his head and Barbara doesn’t press him, trusting him to speak up when he’s ready. After a few more seconds of shaking his head in a repeated stim, he sighs shakily and speaks, muffled on Barbara's chest. 

“I- I did a shit job at the only thing I exist for.” He rocks himself harder, still clutching Barbara’s shirt. “I was supposed to keep Lydia safe! And she- and we just- we rotted in that cell for years and years and you guys had to save us and I couldn’t do shit while they hurt us, they just kept hurting us and I didn’t keep her _safe_!”

Adam shifts over and pushes Beej’s sweaty hair off his forehead, speaking in less than a whisper. “Hey, it wasn’t your fault. You got hurt, too.”

“But I- I’m the oldest, I’m the demon, it’s not a problem for me, she’s just a kid-” his voice crescendos into a yell and then cracks at the last word. This talk has obviously been a very long time coming.

Barbara pulls him up off her chest, wiping tears off his face with her sleeve. “It’s not your job to save everyone, Beej. It’s not your responsibility to sacrifice yourself to keep everyone else safe. And it’s not your job to always be okay.”

He starts wailing again. Barbara kisses the top of his head and lets him cry. 

“And- and you got stuck with me and I’m sorry-”

Barbara startles, pulling him up gently to look at him. “What do you mean, we got stuck with you?”

“You wanted Lyd and I come with her and you had to take me and I’m sorry-”

Barbara fights down her nigh-constant ‘fuck anyone who has ever hurt these children’ feelings. “Beej, honey, we wanted you both. We’ll always want you both. We love you and Lydia exactly the same, do you understand?” 

“What?” He laughs, hollowly, looking away from her. “That’s- what? You don’t need to pretend-”

“We aren’t pretending to care about you, Beej.”

His nails dig into Barbara’s arms as he processes what she said. “I- I’m just so fucking tired of being strong all the time.”

“You don’t have to be strong right now, okay? Just let it all out. I promise you’ll feel better.” 

He cries some more before fully calming down, and then the sun is rising and Barbara remembers that they have school tomorrow and doesn’t think twice before picking Beej up and carrying him back down the road, to his giggling protest. Maybe everyone could get a few extra hours in before day one of what may be the single most normal day of their lives so far.

-

Lydia’s already awake when Beej slips back into their bedroom, crossing her arms. “Where were you- were you _crying?_ Are you o-“

“I’m fine, babes,” Beej says, flopping down next to her and pulling the blankets straight over his head. Muffled by the cloth, Lydia hears him talk again. “Go back to bed, big day tomorrow, all that.”

“I was worried about you!” she replies, going under the covers to glare at him half-heartedly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“’Course,” he grins. “The Maitlands helped me out with… some stuff. I feel a lot better.”

“But you weren’t feeling good before.” He doesn’t respond and she pokes his shoulder. “I could feel you, you know. That’s why I woke up.” She pulls the blanket back down, staring up at the ceiling for a few seconds. “You know I love you?”

“Aw, babes-“

“No, I’m not joking.” Her tone is urgent, almost, like she’s got to say it and say it all. “You’re my best friend and my brother, and I love you more than anyone else in the world. And you’re worth something, you’re not nothing, and I want you in my life for the rest of it and everything after it.”

Beej huffs, glancing over at her. “I love you too, idiot.”

“Good.” She rolls over to look at him reproachfully. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, school starts in two hours and I’m going to die if I don’t sleep. Goodnight.” 

She’s picked up hyperbole from Adam. It’s good to see her talking more like a normal kid, Beej thinks, rather than fragmented half-sentences because no one bothered to teach the weapon how normal people should sound. She falls asleep after a few minutes and Beej lets himself drift back off. 

There aren’t anymore nightmares.


	2. there’s dirt on our uniforms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia goes to school.

Lydia keeps her hands clutched on the straps of her backpack as she opens the door to her homeroom, Beetlejuice firmly parked in the corner of her brain where he can see what’s going on. The class all turn to look at her, eyes probing, looking at her like she’s something Other.

Honestly, she’s sort of used to that. 

She walks behind a desk in the back of the classroom and tries her best to remember what Barbara had taught her. 

(“Lydie, just make sure to be polite to the people at school, and the rest of it will come easy, okay?” Barbara pulled out a new sheet of paper, tracing out the letters again. “Okay, go A to P, and then if you want we can go get lunch.”)

The boy in front of her turns to stare, and she musters a smile, trying to hide her fangs under her gums. He looks confused and turns back around in a hurry, but Lydia figures it could have been worse.

Their teacher, a woman in triangular glasses who introduces herself as Ms. Jacob, makes them all go around and introduce themselves. Lydia gets to say Lydia Maitland without anyone batting an eye. She thinks that it’s probably worth it to go to school just for that.

The bell rings after five minutes of peaceful quiet and Lydia jumps before remembering where she is- it’s a class bell, not a siren, nothing bad will come out of getting up and walking to the next classroom over. The thought is comforting. 

She gets up and leaves the classroom with her chin held high, as Barbara taught her.

-

They have to switch classes exactly once every fifty-three minutes, which means Lydia is exposed to more people than she has ever seen in the span of a six hour period. It’s overwhelming and she takes refuge when she can- lunch in the library is nice, the librarian letting her borrow a book on fairy tales that she finds mostly simple to read.

After lunch comes her last class- history. She’s lucky enough to recognize a few faces. A lanky girl with buck teeth actually smiles at her and, before she can lose her nerve, Lydia slips into the seat next to her, taking out her books. There’s three of them in total at the table- the girl who waved, Lydia, and a small redhead with thick glasses like Adam’s, completing what looks to be an incredibly advanced math handout at a rapid speed.

“Hi!” The tall one says. “My name’s Bertha, that’s Prudence.”

Lydia nods and Prudence looks up from her paper, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “You’re Lydia, right? Lydia Maitland?”

Her full name makes her smile and she nods again, content to remain silent for now. Neither of the other two seem to mind, conversing over simple topics and making sure to include Lydia. It’s nice. Sweet of them to do. 

Their teacher walks in and the conversation ends as the work begins- they’re all moved around the room, Prudence and Bertha whispering farewells as Lydia’s taken from their table to another, closer to the front.

The desks are populated by a group of girls, one in particular looking at Lydia like she’s scum. The girl is in all pink, a skirt and a blouse that Lydia figures must be in style but mostly looks very uncomfortable. She’s looking at Lydia like she’s a plague upon the earth. 

The teacher passes out introductory papers and, while she’s filling it out (What are your parent’s names? Adam and Barbara. Do you like history? I’m not really sure yet. Do you have any siblings? Yes, one.) Lydia waves at the girl across from her, wiggling her fingers slightly awkwardly. The girl gives her a glare filled with such venomous disgust that Lydia rocks back, blinking in confusion. 

“Claire,” the teacher hisses from her desk. “Be polite.”

The girl mutters something Lydia can’t make out and spends the rest of class giving Lydia rude looks and calling her weirdo under her breath.

-

The second the bell rings, Lydia locks herself in a bathroom stall and lets Beej back into her dimension, the two of them crushed next to each other in a way that would likely be strange with anyone else but doesn’t bother either of them in the slightest.

“Babes. Babes. First off I’m gonna fight the blond chick-“ Lydia giggles and he holds up a finger, “-but honestly that went super well! I’m proud of you! Hurrah, we survived, send in the SWAT team, the demon and the lab rat got through a day of high school without killing anyone. Oh, tomorrow, you think we can try to get into that art class for you?”

“Tomorrow,” she responds, smiling fondly at him. “Now we have to go home, remember?”

“Oh! Yeah! Okay, I’ll get going-“ he teleports off, back into her head, and she leaves the bathroom quietly, weaving through a maze of people (deep breaths, it’s fine) to get onto the bus.

Prudence and Bertha sit next to each other in the last seat and they wave at her when she settles into her own seat (thirteen rows down to the left, because she needs some sort of routine in this terrifying new world and she’s taken the seat as Her Own). She waves back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments appreciated!


	3. swing, sucker, swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new challenger arrives, and truths are outed.

September turns into October turns into November, Lydia and Beetlejuice enjoying the fall and trick or treating, but never quite learning how to get up on time.

Case in point: the clock reads 6:56. The bus comes at 6:57. Lydia is halfway-dressed.

“Mom, have you seen my backpack?” Lydia ran past Barbara, hair sticking up at all ends and tie undone, and Barbara ties it quickly, shaking her head. 

“No, did you bring it home?”

“Yeah, I-”

With a pop, Beetlejuice crashes onto the counter next to them both, throwing Lydia’s bag at her. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

“Someone’s excited,” Barbara teases, fixing Beej’s hair as he shifts impatiently from foot to foot- he’s sick today, again, according to the call Barbara had made; really, he just wants to hang out with his sister and not have to do any math homework.

“We’re gonna be so late-”

“Not my fault you wanted to marathon Halloween and slept in, is it?”

“Everything I do is your fault, babes, brain-sharer, remember-”

“Shut up!”

“The bus is coming!” Barbara yells, sing-song over their bickering, and they look at each other and then back to her before jumping into action, Lydia kissing Barbara on the cheek and careening out the door, Beetlejuice just behind her, disappearing with a snap of imploding air as he steps off the porch.

Barbara smiles fondly as Lydia runs after the bus, waving her hands and yelling until the driver stops. She gets on safe and sound, and only after the bus fades out from Barbara’s line of sight does she notice a much-too-clean red convertible sitting on the curb. 

Barbara’s suspicion turns to anger as she pulls up the shade on the kitchen window to peer at the driver. Orange hair styled impeccably, heart-shaped sunglasses, a worn old hoodie, and bright red lipstick.

Shit.

Barbara takes Adam’s bat off the fireplace mantle and marches outside, hands curled tightly around the bat’s handle, nail side up.

“Get the fuck out of the car, Delia.”

The woman takes off her sunglasses, blinking curiously at her. “You know, Barbara, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone that excited to go to school.”

Barbara’s blood freezes. Delia saw the kids, and she’s not an idiot- even with Lydia’s contacts, the both of them no longer being malnourished, and Beetlejuice’s haircut, Delia’s sure to know exactly who they are. Jesus, she could claim them back, she could get Barbara stuck in jail, she could take Adam and she could-

Barbara makes herself stop thinking about it, gritting her teeth and brandishing the bat. 

“Get out of the car, now.”

Delia gets out of the car. Barbara holds her at bat-point and pulls her into the house, Delia watching her warily as she pulls out a kitchen chair, pushing aside Adam’s paperwork and various scribbled-on old homework assignments. 

“Sit down.”

Delia sits down.

Barbara sits down across from her, the bat clunking to the floor next to her.

“How did you find us?”

“School registration,” Delia answers cooly, crossing her arms over her chest and then leaning forward, folding her hands together on the table. “Maitland isn’t the most common name in the world. I see you let them use it, by the way. Fascinating.”

Her eyes are flicking around nervously, betraying what her tone doesn’t, and Barbara glares harder, not letting Delia’s threats distract her. “What the fuck do you want?”

“You killed my husband,” Delia responds, hands twisting in front of her. Her voice finally betrays her anger. “Shot him dead, didn’t you?”

“If you’re here for revenge, do it now,” Barbara says, her voice edged with warning. “But if you lay a single finger on my kids, I will bludgeon your brains out and I won’t be sorry.” 

Delia gets up, levels her with a glare, and throws a sucker punch at her nose. Barbara wipes the blood off of her lip and proceeds to respond in kind, right-hooking Delia so hard the woman drops like a stone onto the table, blood gushing out of her nose. 

-

Delia wakes up some time later on the couch of the Maitland home with an ice pack over her feeling-very-broken nose, Barbara sitting across from her with her arms crossed.

“You ready to talk like an adult now?”

Delia sits up, holding the ice pack tightly. “You knocked me out!”

“After you punched me in the face, yes, I knocked you out. Do you want to talk about what you’re feeling, or do you want to fight more?”

“Do I- my feelings?” she scoffs, unbelieving. “You murdered my husband! In cold blood! With a fucking gun!”

Before Barbara can respond, the door slams open and shrieking laughter fills the air as a teenage boy with shock-green hair trips over himself to run into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder, cackling. “You lose, babes!”

Wait, Delia realizes, taking in the rest of his features. 

It’s not a kid. It’s the demon- shorter hair, sneakers on, newer clothes and beaded bracelets along its arms, but the demon just the same. She gapes for a few seconds when it notices her at last, smile slipping off its face as it tilts its head to stare at her. They just blink at each other for a few seconds before the demon lets out a huff of surprise as another body- the subject, the subject- slams into its back and knocks the wind out of it, laughing until she notices Delia. The subject shrinks into herself, grabbing the demon’s arm and peering out from behind the demon to stare in shock at Delia. 

“Dr. M?” The demon says, taking the subject’s hand. “What the hell is going on?”

“She showed up a few hours ago and tried to hit me, I knocked her out, she’s on the couch now. Would you two mind going to your room and locking the door?” Barbara sounds very matter-of-fact- how often has she dealt with former coworkers breaking and entering?

In response, the demon grabs the subject’s shoulders and turns her around, pushing her towards the staircase, but doesn’t move. “I’m staying.”

“Beej-“ Barbara starts, but it shakes its head, cutting her off. 

“I’ll back you up, okay?”

The subject glares daggers at the demon and it turns to smile crookedly at her. “C’mon, I’ll come get you if I need kickass cavalry.”

“What if- if-” Okay, the subject speaks now, that’s new- “she tries to-“

“Nothing is going to happen,” Barbara responds, getting up to take the subject’s hand and pull her gently up the stairs. “But just in case, go upstairs and do your homework, okay?”

She sighs but walks up the stairs after giving Delia another venomous look. The demon crosses its arms and flops down next to Barbara, absolutely leering at Delia when she tenses in response.

“Anyway,” Barbara says, raising her eyebrows at Delia. “Yes, I killed your husband. I’m not sorry about it. He hurt my kids and was also a gigantic dick.”

Delia has watched the tapes- before Charles was shot, he and Barbara had argued. He had tried to shoot her. Charles attempted to shoot first. Charles attempted to shoot at the subject and Barbara before Barbara had ever pulled the trigger. These were facts which even Delia, who had loved her husband, could not deny. 

“You-”

“I did what I had to do to get myself and my family out of that lab alive,” Barbara interrupts smoothly. 

Delia shuts her mouth. 

The demon smiles fondly at Barbara while she speaks to Delia and spends the rest of the time glaring at Delia, so Delia doesn’t protest when Barbara remarks _that he should really go help Lydia with her homework Beetlejuice Lawrence Maitland no arguments you know that girl doesn’t like fractions and you’re good with numbers come on. _

He groans but gets up, snapping his fingers and disappearing.

-

Lydia’s on their bed, sure enough, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she tries to remember how to multiply fractions.

“Just go straight through,” Beej reminds her, sitting down next to her to point at the numbers.

“Did Dr. Maitland make you leave?” Lydia’s been jumping between Barbara’s title and just calling her Mom for a few weeks, but had mostly stuck to the latter. Beej figures she’s too freaked out to remember the endearment.

“Yeah, she did.”

“It’s nice that she keeps trying to protect us.” Lydia swings her legs a little, pushing her math homework aside. 

“I guess.”

“You’re worried.”

“Yeah,” He sighs, interlocking his fingers on his lap. “I don’t want her here.”

“Me, either. Maybe we could talk to them about it?”

Beej nods, once, and takes the pen from Lydia’s hand, beginning to methodically correct her mistakes on the paper, showing her how to fix them. They both ignore the screaming from downstairs.

Adam comes to get them for dinner, hands covered in glue and dirt from fixing the fence with a new padlock. He swings Beej onto his shoulder, potato-sack style, and carries Lydia with one arm wrapped around her torso, both of them laughing as he does so (and trusting him not to drop them down the stairs- for a mechanic, the man is strong).

The ground floor is eerily quiet, Delia and Dr. M arguing in hushed tones. When Adam carries both kids by, Lydia waves to their pseudo-mother and she takes a second to wave back and shrug in a be-there-soon manner before turning back around.

Adam drops them both and Beej teleports into the kitchen- the usual sitting-down meal obviously wasn’t applicable tonight, so Dr. M had dragged out all the leftovers from the fridge. He grabbed a few of the boxes and teleported back, handing a container of pork-fried rice to Lydia and lobbing Adam an apple, knowing Dr. M wouldn’t want to eat just yet. He figures being nice is probably the best course of action, at this point. The anger boiling in his gut is threatening to spill over, and he doesn’t want to hurt the people he cares about in the process.

By the time Delia and Dr. M quit arguing, Adam has gone up to sleep, and Lydia has found a bracelet making kit that Adam had found in the attic a few weeks prior. She gives Beej purple and bright green string and watches him try to braid it, head on his shoulder.

Dr. M leaves to go grab some food after- through worried glances- she makes sure the two of them are alright, and Beej continues to work in silence. Lydia eventually teleports herself up to bed, with the quiet understanding that Beej would not be sleeping anytime soon, leaving only him and Delia in the room. 

Beej has half of his second bracelet braided when he actually speaks up, looking through his bangs straight at Delia. “You’re scared of us.”

She freezes and he snorts. “Hasn’t it been long enough that you realize I’m not going to kill you? Didn’t kill you while we were there, did I? Even after the trap business?”

“Oh, like you wouldn't kill me? Not like you killed Emily?” Delia spits out before she can stop herself. “I saw that, you know. All of it.”

(Her stomach was ripped open and the demon’s hands were covered in guts when they pulled him off of the body, eyes glassy. He didn’t even fight as they dragged him off, Emily’s body left lying there in the hallway, hands clutching her backup knife. Delia had thrown up then and there and ran until she found Charles.)

He sighs. “So that’s what this is about.”

“You killing an innocent woman, yes-“

His face morphs into one of pure anger before she even finished her sentence. “Innocent?”

“She was my g- my friend-“

“Your _friend_ kidnapped us!” He’s screaming, hands clenched into fists. “You ever think about who dragged us into that fucking lab in the first place? It was her! She tricked me and she took Lydia and she stuck us in that fucking cell and I only killed her because she tried to make Lyds kill an actually innocent man! Why do you think I was such a fucking demon in the lab, huh? They stole everything from us!”

And then he’s throwing up his hands and marching upstairs, glancing back at her for a second to show his hair rippling from red to blue to purple and back around again. Delia’s head is pounding. Flashes of green and red and something missing, missing, missing-

She marches over to the kitchen, pulls an entire glass of cheap wine out of the fridge, and chugs half of it, making direct eye contact with Barbara (who’s busy peeling potatoes in the corner).

“Ahhh,” she says, smiling a little. “You finally get it, huh?”

The headache increases, bolts of pain flaring up in her head, and she groans, closing her eyes and knocking back another drink.

Something’s missing-

The drink is warm and burns going down her throat, and she keeps sipping it until there’s noting left, just her and this headache and the darkness behind her eyelids. There’s something she’s forgetting, something that’s supposed to be here.

They took _everything_ from us. They took everything from us. What had- who had-

A crash sounds out in the room and Delia feels her fingertips grow warm, sparks running along her arms.

She opens her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


	4. the end of all things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The happy ending I promised, and another demonic vessel.

“Well, it took you long enough.” The woman standing in front of Delia is a spitting image of her, discounting bright green skin and scars and cuts everywhere. Delia’s convinced she’s a hallucination before she sees Barbara gaping at the other woman, cooking forgotten. 

“What-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember. You tortured those kids for years, and I had to watch, Delia, imagine what they would have done to us if you’d been younger!” The woman’s voice is angry, but besides that it’s scared and absolutely exhausted.

“I don’t know- I-“

She glares harder at Delia, her eyes heavy when she meets her gaze, walking over to her and placing a hand on her forehead.

Oh.

Delia remembers, her memories rushing back in the form of a tidal wave.

-

Delia Schlimmer is nine years old, which means her parents are fine leaving the house to go to operas and plays and business meetings as long as she locks the door and doesn’t tell the pizza man she’s home without an adult. She’s quite happy with this arrangement, fully glad to have time for herself and her sister.

On a late Saturday in October, Delia and Norma have set themselves up in the living room with two large pizzas and Delia’s new markers, intent on finishing the coloring book the two of them had been drawing in for weeks. They work in comforting silence, the only sound the scribbling of the markers, Delia occasionally poking her sister’s elbow to steal a marker or two.

When Delia finishes her last picture, she pulls a dozing Norma up off the floor and pulls her by the hand to the kitchen. “Where should I hang it?”

“To the right,” she replies, “Where your parents can see.”

Delia does so, slapping a magnet over her artwork and nodding in satisfaction. Norma smiles, squeezing Delia’s hand. “Nice job.”

“Thanks!” Delia pulls her back into the living room and steps over a pizza box, letting go of her sister to start to clean the mess as the garage door opens from across the house.

Norma finishes dropping the last marker into Delia’s box before they glance at each other, expressions identically worried.

“Go,” Delia whispers as the door opens in the entryway, and Norma nods before disappearing with a pop, leaving the box of markers to crash to the floor.

-

Looking back on it, it’s a miracle no one ever grew suspicious in the early years; Delia’s parents assumed she had a rather overactive imagination and left it at that. They weren’t home often enough for Delia to ever be caught summoning her sister, but there were many a close call before the two girls learned how to keep secrets.

By the time they were sixteen, the two of them had mastered it- at school, Delia Schlimmer was the saliductorian, the band’s clarinet section leader, and most importantly perfectly normal (if a little, well, strange) in the eyes of her peers. At home, with her parents always working late, she remained as she had always been- a bit of a nerd, defacto the oldest by virtue of having no idea how Norma was even born, and a big sucker for romcom movies. She grew into herself well as the years went on, placing too much pressure on herself, to be sure, but respected by enough people to get away with certain things. Her lack of real friends were more than made up for by her group of acquaintances, or so she told herself. And anyway, she had Otho- in every one of her classes, sweet and funny and flamboyant, the only person she knew who remembered her birthday every year.

Norma stayed the same on all accounts- her pageant sash remained across her right shoulder, and the hoodie she borrowed from Delia never grew too small- discounting her overprotectiveness of Delia growing stronger as they aged. It was suffocating, sometimes, but mostly it was welcome, a comforting break from cold parents and fair-weather friends. 

Most of what Delia remembered from that time were small snapshots; Otho and her playing the homecoming game side by side, getting iHop after they’re finally allowed to leave; her and Norma stargazing on the roof of Delia’s high school, avoiding the security guard’s by teleporting home; spending her seventeenth birthday watching Clueless with Norma in the back of an empty movie theatre. The only clear memory she’s got is right after college, driving in her old corvette down to California, Norma in the shotgun seat, both of them arguing.

“Why would we go see a doctor, Delia? What could this possibly do for us?” She leans against her elbow on the dash, glancing sideways at Delia. “Like, I know this place is supposed to deal with the supernatural, but we don’t even know what I am. There’s literally no way this could possibly go well. Do you want me to be exorcised out of your head or whatever?”

Delia doesn’t respond and Norma rolls her eyes, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Glad to know I’m so loved around here.”

“Norma-“

“Don’t.” 

The conversation slams to a halt and they’re left in a sea of tense silence, both women looking anywhere but each other. Delia watches the road, eyes burning, and reaches over to hold onto Norma’s hand without looking at her. “I don’t want to get rid of you. I just want time for myself.”

“I know.” She still sounds angry but doesn’t pull her hand away, so Delia takes it as a win.

They pull up to the lab and Delia sends Norma back into her head, ringing the buzzer. A blond woman waits inside, smile just slightly too wide.

“My name is Emily,” she says, sticking out her hand. “I’m here to help you.”

-

The last memory Delia got was bright, tinged in red.

She’s trapped in the corner of the room, Norma floating up in the middle as Emily chants something Latin. Everything hurts.

“What are you _doing?_” Delia screams, banging on the barrier that isn’t really there. Everything hurts and Emily is glowing and Norma is screaming like an animal caught in a trap, and Emily just keeps laughing.

“Fixing you! Don’t worry!” She smiles at Delia, voice sickeningly sweet. “You won’t remember when I’m finished!”

-

Delia wakes up on a hospital bed, blinking blearily at the faces of her girlfriend and boyfriend. 

“What happened?”

“You went unconscious, love,” Emily murmurs, grabbing her hand. “You suffered a really nasty fall. How much do you remember?”

“You said you’d help me with- with-“ with what? How much of a fall had she taken?

“With your pain,” Charles fills in for her, voice grim. “The pain you’ve been experiencing.”

Oh. Now that he said it, she notices the pain- her joints feel like they’re on fire, her head pounding with a migraine. “Oh. My pain. Of course. Thanks for helping me out.” She smiles weakly at them and they both grin back, their eyes just short of warmth.

-

The pain got worse as time progresses- after Emily dies, after Charles and Delia get married and try to ignore the gaping hole of their third member, as the subject grows stranger and more powerful day by day. There’s not much she can do- she takes Advil and drinks water, but the migraines are always there, along with joint pain. After a while, she forgets if there was ever anything different.

-

The woman- Norma- takes her hand off of Delia’s head and crosses her arms to her chest, staring at her. “You get everything?”

“Oh, my god-“ Delia scrambles to stand up (and now, god, now it doesn’t hurt to stand up) running a hand through her hair as she stares at the woman. At her sister.

They made her forget her sister?

“Yeah, oh my god is one way to put it.” 

“They- Emily and Charles, what did they-“ 

“Exorcism. Death for the dead.” Norma glares at her, pointing a finger at Delia’s chest. “I have been stuck in your head for twelve _fucking_ years, do you understand what that’s like? I watched you hurt those fucking children- because that’s what they are, by the way, Del, they’re children- and I watched you marry the man that took you from me, and I couldn’t do a thing all because you wanted me out of your head! Congratulations, Delia! You won! You won and they-“ her voice is cracking into sobs, now, getting louder and louder- “they took you away from me! I was alone! We aren’t supposed to be alone, Delia!”

Delia steps forward, hands shaking, and pulls Norma into the tightest hug she could muster. She’s just barely shorter than her, Norma’s sobs sinking into almost silence but still wracking her entire body. Delia holds on tighter, rocking them back and forth, breathing in and out as slowly as she can manage, just absorbing these things she remembers. Norma’s hair is down, but they used to do it up with bobby pins so she could look like the beauty queens they saw on TV. The scars all over her have to be from the exorcism, but she had a few of them before- one from pushing Delia out of the street when a car came too fast and ended up clipping her arm, one a burn across her forearm from the first time they had attempted to cook. Delia used to know this body in her arms just as well as she knows her own, and now it’s almost foreign, save for the way Norma fits in her arms.

“I missed you,” Norma says into her shoulder, and Delia clutches her tighter. 

When they pull away at last, Delia putting her hands on Norma’s shoulders to get another look at her, Barbara has put down her peeler. She begins to move to the door, looking at them both, concern mixed with the anger in her eyes.

“I’m getting the kids,” she says, in way of explanation. “And we’re all gonna talk.”

She leaves and Norma sighs, pulling herself out of Delia’s grip to look around the room, eyes wide. “Nice place.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Oh, I know.” Norma grins at her. “Living in your car sure isn’t as glamorous as you thought, huh?”

Delia shrugs as the pounding of feet sounds on the stage, the subject stumbling in first and the demon nearly falling over her as they both stare, smile spreading on the subject’s face.

“Oh!”

“No!” The demon laughs in shock, its arms around the subject’s shoulders. “Oh man, Lyds, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“We’re always thinking the same thing, numbskull.” The subject pulls herself gently out of the demon’s grip and grabs Norma’s arms, looking up at her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lydia, and that’s Beej.”

“I’m Norma,” she says, trying very hard to act like this girl- Lydia, the subject has a name and it’s Lydia- isn’t the First Person She’s Ever Spoken To Besides Delia. “I’m Delia’s sister.”

“Yeah, we figured!” Beej smiles with all his teeth, looking a mix between excited and dangerous. “So, what, you just went around torturing us for years while you had literally the exact same thing going on, or?”

“She didn’t remember.” Norma has firmly taken over the speaking role for the two of them, turning to see Delia staring blankly at the people in the room as years of separational trauma finally catches up. “She was still wrong, though. That’s not up for any sort of debate. And we can go if you need us to.”

Beej nods. There’s something he missed about talking to other dead people- he loves Lydia more than anything, of course, but being a demon is very different than being a demonic vessel, and sometimes companionship is almost as important as the total and constant love he has for his sister.

However, Norma’s taller than him, so that takes out a lot of the fun.

Lydia lets go of the woman’s arm and looks backward at Beej, the two of them having a complex back-and-forth made up entirely of glares and hand motions, before turning around at the same time. 

“We’re gonna keep an eye on you, but you can stay,” Beej replies, and Lydia crosses her arms and nods.

“Or several eyes. We have four between us.”

“Fascinating,” Norma deadpans. “I never would have guessed.”

“However many eyes you’ve got,” Barbara says from behind them, “they should all be closed by now. Let’s make this fast and then you two are off to bed, you hear me?”

“Yes,” the two of them chorus dutifully, Barbara ushering them into the living room.

And then it’s just the adults, alone again.

-

Delia staying at the Maitland home isn’t something they really talk about- it just happens, slowly but surely. The first two months, her and Norma sleep on the couch in shifts, one for the first six hours after the kids go to bed and the other until Lydia gets up for school. By the third month, Barbara gives them the guest room farthest up the stairs without very much fanfare.

By the fourth month, Beej has begun to enjoy Delia’s lessons on crystal usage and Lydia has taken to stealing the more outrageous of Delia’s accessories to wear around the house with the quiet understanding that they’d be put back carefully the next day. They each have to talk about what happened, of course; Delia apologizes to the both of them when she feels it’s best, and they accept it after a careful, Barbara-fueled discussion on boundaries and the improvement of people and the inherent humanity of the strange and unusual.

That’s what Delia never quite grasped before- the two of them had always been human, stubbornly and totally human. Now it was easier, with them all having the time and space to learn and grow.

Perhaps that’s cliche, but she’s glad for it; she’s even glad for Norma being stuck with her again, the other woman knowing exactly how to keep the kids in line and how to help Delia on her Former Villain recovery.

And- most of the time- it’s good.

-

The falling action in three parts:

Lydia Maitland, age fourteen, passes middle school with top grades in everything besides science, beating out Claire Brewster by a full mark. Lawrence Maitland, age seventeen, passes the eleventh grade with six B’s and a C. Barbara Maitland hangs both report cards up on the fridge with equal pride.

Delia Schlimmer quietly changes back to her maiden name and visits her dead husband’s grave to spit on it, for everything he took from her and everything he took from her housemates. Her sister comes along to destroy the gravestone.

Adam Maitland writes a riveting and difficult to digest report on the horrors of the Deetz Institute for the Paranormal, which is very quickly collected and destroyed by the government. The building is shut down for good soon after.

And an ending in one: 

Lydia and Beej fall asleep in the living room rewatching Texas Chainsaw Massacre on mute, and Barbara and Adam sleep in their bedroom to the sound of drizzling rain, and Delia and Norma sit up in their bedroom reading gossip magazines by lamplight, and for now that’s okay. 

For now, that’s the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions or just want to yell at me, I’m on tumblr @lydiamaitland.
> 
> The ending is short, but I wanted this out here. This story has been mine for a long time, and I think it’s time to pass it on. Also, Norma- Miss Argentina- went with Delia because Leslie Kritzer plays them both, if you didn’t get that. Also because I love Norma a lot. 
> 
> I hope you liked this. Kudos and Comments, as always, are appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated!


End file.
